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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905680">don't leave me here, don’t leave me here, don’t leave me here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgsf/pseuds/cgsf'>cgsf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (France)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Illness, someone help lucas lallemant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:09:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgsf/pseuds/cgsf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was so difficult not to ignore his own feelings and thoughts as they persistently tumbled from him; it was challenging to understand her in the midst of the havoc crippling him from the inside. And it was crippling him. He was so scared he would never get to the end of it—that it would stretch out before him as an eternal line like the path of the moon. Each step crumbling a part of him regardless of his attempts to control it. That as he continued on the path, every sense, every thought, every memory of his mama would be replaced by the words she had spoken that day. And he knew where that would lead—to anger and resentment. And he was fighting so hard to not let the bitterness take root. It would be too easy. Feeling was hard, but anger was easy."</p><p>-----</p><p>In the wake of his mother's death, Lucas hasn't let himself cope.  So the boys drag him out to a party to get his mind off of it. Lucas ends up alone with his thoughts until Eliott comes to find him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't leave me here, don’t leave me here, don’t leave me here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, there is a HUGE trigger warning for referenced suicide. There's a lot of feelings and thoughts about it and then there's a small bit of dialogue about it at the end. If that's not your jam, or you feel it might be too much, then please don't continue.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The neon lights flickered across the dance floor making the movement of bodies appear stilted, their frenetic pacing an almost intentional choreograph that left Lucas feeling more gone than he knew he actually was. He wasn’t exactly sure if the room was spinning, if he was spinning, or if the combination before him was acting as a gateway for his mind into another universe.</p><p>“She said she wasn’t even sure if he she’d be coming home tonight. I mean, I know she has to handle a bunch of shit with her family, but she’s been gone for an entire week already and I was really looking forward to seeing her tonight like we’d planned.” Basille’s ranting was loud enough to pierce the cacophony inside his head, but the words barely registered. He was far from feeling guilty about it, though, considering he wasn’t even the one his friend was talking to.</p><p>Glancing down at his half-empty cup, Lucas watched the carbonation fizz slowly up to the surface. The discordance between the movement of the bubbles and the bass of the music pounding against his skull made him feel extra helpless. <em>Another something out of balance. </em></p><p>With a barely-there sigh, he placed his cup on the table and made to stand up.</p><p>“You okay?” Yann’s expression was intentionally veiled—and Lucas only knew that from years of being at the center of it—but he didn’t stop him.</p><p>“Yeah. I’m just going to get something else to drink.” He didn’t have to explain that the beer was watered down by then. He didn’t have to suggest that he wasn’t drunk enough to still be at the party. And of course he didn’t have to tell his best friend that he was fighting against the unbearable longing to escape that was clawing its way out from beneath his ribcage.</p><p>Yann always knew. “Text me when you leave.”</p><p>He gave him a slight nod and pushed his way through the room, his destination still undecided. When he turned the corner, he ended up in a narrow hallway dimly lit by a pink light bulb that had been substituted for the party. His steps guided him past a few preoccupied couples—past their searching hands and frantic mouths—as the music began to fade into a dull thrum with only a muted melody. It felt familiar and strange all at the same time, a déjà vu that left him feeling like he was standing on a ledge.</p><p>He could remember his mother confessing to what she had considered were her ‘worst thoughts’ back when she felt she had something to apologize for. She’d made a list. Lucas had told her that it wasn’t necessary and that she had nothing to feel sorry about. That he was happy and so she should be. But she’d insisted.</p><p>There was a time when Lucas was around ten years old, when she’d begun to feel more and more unlike herself—that someone or something <em>other</em> was taking up residence inside her mind, while she was only helpless to watch it happen. In those moments, she’d allowed herself to drift further inside herself where nothing could reach. And when it got really bad—she’d explained—she would imagine herself leaving the house, walking down the street, and not looking back. Letting her feet carry her farther and farther away from home, from her family—from Lucas. And even though she said she would never give into the feeling, the desire to leave everything behind, that feeling never subsided—it clung to her like a shadow unaffected by the sun, weaving between the synapses in her brain until she could no longer determine what was <em>her</em> and what was <em>it. </em></p><p>Lucas had wanted to be angry. He had wanted to shout at her and throw the closest thing within his reach. But he had known it was only because of his fear. The fear that her words had meant something else—that she didn’t <em>want </em>to be there. That she didn’t want <em>him. </em>Lucas wasn’t sure what he would have done had she given into the feeling.</p><p>As he neared the end of the hallway, he looked down the stairs stretched out before him. The haze filtering up from the darkened basement pulled him from his thoughts. The pink light from the hallway poured down the steps and he let it lead him further into the black. It wasn’t empty—far from it—but the atmosphere was completely different from the party happening upstairs. The stairway led to an open lounge. A record player was skipping in the corner, having been long forgotten; someone’s cellular playlist was filling a small section of the room with tinny guitar. Most of the sitting area was filled by bodies too far gone to be aware of his entrance.</p><p>Lucas almost let himself feel embarrassed for intruding. But his attention was drawn by the open door leading to the backyard. The room felt cooler than upstairs and now he knew why.</p><p>As he stepped outside the house, the coolness of the night coated his bare arms and seeped delicately through the material of his loose t-shirt. Beneath the sound of muted whispers from his left and the animated giggling coming from the small group of freshman playing <em>spin the bottle</em> by the gazebo, Lucas could hear the soft waves from the coast. It drew him like a string tied to his chest, an ache he refused to name. He followed the stone path that led through the gate, leaving the party, the noise, the house and everything behind. Even though it was close the midnight, the full moon lit the path as if it were midday. As the music faded with each step, Lucas allowed himself to breathe deeper. He could taste the salt in the air and it cleared the smoke from his lungs until all that was left was the emptiness that had taken root within him weeks ago. As if he needed to be reminded.</p><p>When the path gave way to gravel and then finally the downy grass of the cliff side, Lucas allowed himself to stop. He looked down at the ground beneath his feet. The sound of the water not too far away continued its relentless cascade against the rocks and the pull on his heart. The pull drew him toward the edge, but not close enough to give into fear. Looking into the abyss in front of him, Lucas caught sight of the path etched into the waves by the full moon. The white line stretched out before him directly toward the horizon where it disappeared into the blackness of night. It almost looked solid enough to walk on. </p><p>It was six years ago that his mother had admitted her secrets to him. Six years of trying to understand the inner turmoil of a woman who claimed to love him but then eventually chose to leave him. Lucas traced the moon’s path with his gaze and his mother’s words echoed inside his head, an unyielding storm that threatened to overwhelm him.</p><p>
  <em>I didn’t know where it would take me. I just knew I had to see. It wasn’t about you or your father. It wasn’t about what we had or didn’t have. It was about letting go. And I don’t mean that anything was… too much. I simply felt I had to do it. </em>
</p><p>And though she’d admitted to him that <em>these are only just thoughts </em>and that she <em>would never do that to him. </em>She did. She had. Lucas wasn’t sure how much time she had spent convincing herself that those were only just thoughts. That those thoughts weren’t even real. That she didn’t <em>really </em>feel like she had wanted to leave. Because apparently her convincing hadn’t been enough. Or maybe it wasn’t herself she had been trying to convince.</p><p><em>Fuck. </em>And Lucas had been convinced. It had taken time to get over the feeling that his mama had thoughts about abandoning him, but over time he had let her words persuade him. He had let her reassure him over and over again that she wasn’t going to leave him. That she wanted him. That she needed him.</p><p>It was so difficult not to ignore his own feelings and thoughts as they persistently tumbled from him; it was challenging to understand her in the midst of the havoc crippling him from the inside. And it <em>was</em> crippling him. He was so scared he would never get to the end of it—that it would stretch out before him as an eternal line like the path of the moon. Each step crumbling a part of him regardless of his attempts to control it. That as he continued on the path, every sense, every thought, every memory of his mama would be replaced by the words she had spoken that day. And he knew where that would lead—to anger and resentment. And he was fighting so hard to not let the bitterness take root. It would be too easy. Feeling was hard, but anger was easy.</p><p>She didn’t deserve that, though. She deserved so so so much more.</p><p>Lucas clutched the sleeves of his t-shirt tighter against the breeze as he sat down so he wouldn’t have to fight so hard against the <em>pull</em> gripping tautly from within. The chill in the air gave him a bit of reprieve against the heat threatening to spill out of every seam of his body. He could feel it bubbling up, the hurt and panic an attempt to answer his spiraling thoughts.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to feel like this. He can remember the messages his mama had sent him through the years—how could he not—and one of them stood out to him now. <em>There is a time for everything. </em>Some of her messages had been pointed. Some of them made him more confused than anything else, though he didn’t ever blame her for it. But sometimes she just wanted to be a comfort to him. Because she knew the impact of her own trauma, and how it was affecting her only son. <em>A time to heal. </em>She knew he didn’t choose this. He didn’t choose the life her trauma was shaping for their family.</p><p>
  <em>A time to mourn. </em>
</p><p>And how long was it supposed to be? A week? A month? Years? It had only been a few weeks, but it definitely felt like years to Lucas. As each day passed, he felt like he was losing more and more. Pieces of him slipped from his grasp as his dreams faded with the sunrise. His attempts to piece them back together only ended with more frustration and more fear. His friends tried to distract him from it, as if simply forgetting it happened would allow it to take a backseat to the fact that his life was trudging along without him. He wanted to let them. He wanted to have hope that they knew what they were doing and he was simply blinded by the turmoil. But his hope barely had roots. It felt thin like tulle—as if even the thought of it would make it disappear.</p><p>
  <em>A time to die. </em>
</p><p>Lucas failed at suppressing the sob that had been building the last few minutes. It escaped with a choke, tears following soon after. He pressed the heels of his palms into his tightly closed eyelids, hoping he could prevent the worst of it. But the sobs broke free, relentless and heavy. It felt like someone else. Like he was standing outside of himself, looking down at this wreck of a human. He was completely out of control. And he didn’t understand why it had to be this way. He had tried so hard to keep it in. But the ache refused to be contained. It screamed from his chest like an entity of its own, pulling Lucas helplessly behind it like a shadow. And he did feel like a shadow. An empty jar meant to hold something precious, but left empty and used and collecting dust.</p><p>Abruptly, he was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of footsteps coming to a stop behind him. He coughed to cover up the sound of himself choking back whatever it was that was overtaking him. He wasn’t embarrassed to be found like this. He simply wanted to be alone.</p><p>“I thought I might find you here.”</p><p><em>That voice. </em>Lucas blinked his eyes open, wiped quickly at the wetness that continued to pool there, and gave a small chuckle. It didn’t feel real—and maybe it wasn’t—but it helped him ground himself in the moment.</p><p>“And where would that be?” He didn’t turn around. Instead, the other person came forward and sat down next to him, leaving a small space between them. It felt comforting—the fact that they were not touching, but they were close enough to feel each other’s presence. It felt like understanding.</p><p>He watched Eliott turn his gaze away from the cliff to look at him directly. “Alone.” And he smiled at Lucas with that thousand-watt smile that made his eyes squint and his cheeks practically disappear. To anyone else, it would seem completely out of place and maybe even a bit rude considering the context, but Lucas felt it penetrate him to the bone. He felt the fight die within him. The fight to keep it together. The fight to make sense of everything. To fight to simply be.</p><p>Lucas smiled back at him, but it was difficult. He could feel his face tighten as his composure cracked under the pressure. And as he watched, Eliott’s own smile slowly slipped into something else.</p><p>“Lucas…”</p><p>Lucas turned away and shook his head slightly. “It’s okay.” He focused on the sound of the waves crashing below them. And no matter the harshness of their movements, it felt peaceful in that moment. He let the sound overwhelm him, push away all the thoughts and fears, and imagined himself sinking below it—below the weight of water piling up and over and all around him. It was inevitable. He practically couldn’t think of anything else anymore.</p><p>“I don’t know who I am anymore.”</p><p>He could hear the hitch in the other boy’s breathing, the rustling of his shirt as he turned to fully face Lucas. But he didn’t say anything. Eliott simply looked. He looked and looked and didn’t stop. And Lucas didn’t feel weird or ashamed or self-conscious. He felt warm. Eliott always made him feel warm. He never made him feel vulnerable or embarrassed.</p><p>When Lucas looked down, he could see Eliott clenching his hands in his lap, as if he were fighting the urge to reach out. But Eliott, more than anyone he had ever met, always knew how to respond to Lucas. Even when he was unsure, he erred on the side of what felt most right—and it often was. In this moment, Lucas was sure he was battling with himself—with what he wanted to do, and what he thought Lucas needed from him. But Lucas wasn’t even sure what he needed from him right then. So he reached out and took the older boy’s hands in his own, pulled them toward himself.</p><p>He caught Eliott’s eyes when he looked back up at him. There was a softness there, a softness that was often there, but it was different now. There was something behind it that the boy was trying to hold back. It looked awfully familiar; it filled him with that same ache he’d been unsuccessfully trying to tamp down for weeks. It made Lucas feel guilty. He understood Eliott so much. They had been friends for <em>years. </em>And he hated sometimes how close they were; because Eliott was so vulnerable. And Lucas hated being the one to make him <em>feel things. </em>At this moment, he could feel the fear and anxiety and sorrow seeping steadily out of the other boy, and he knew it was a reflection of his own.</p><p>Frequently, Eliott’s empathy was like an extra presence in the room. When he felt things, it was difficult to hide them. And when others felt things? Eliott felt them, too. But it led him into spirals of misinterpreting other’s emotions more often than not. The exception being, of course, when it came to Lucas. It always seemed like the other boy could read him thought-for-thought. Things were often left unsaid because it seemed unnecessary to give voice to them. It allowed for a unique friendship to build between them.</p><p>His mama had told him to be careful with Eliott. At first, he was afraid she didn’t trust the older boy; that she saw something that Lucas had been overlooking. And the latter may have been true—because she was the one who revealed to him how vulnerable Eliott was. His emotions often left him exposed to the world around him, and without safeguards in place, he was vulnerable to being crushed under its weight. At the time, Lucas felt ashamed for not being a better friend, but she reminded him that they were young, and Lucas wasn’t in a position to protect Eliott. She simply explained that Eliott could be hurt if Lucas wasn’t careful, and she knew Lucas wouldn’t want to be the one who would hurt anyone, let alone Eliott.</p><p>But here he was, doing exactly that. He could see his own fear etched plainly across Eliott’s face. It made the ache stronger, the desperation deeper. Eliott meant <em>so much </em>to him. It hurt to see him hurting. That’s why he had been trying to avoid him the last few days. It was closing in on one month since his mama had left, since she’d let the waves over take her, since she’d left him. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together for much longer. He’d been avoiding facing it—the implications of her words, her constant messages, her silences, and then her later actions. Lucas thought that if he buried it deep enough, maybe the weight of the earth over top would eventually dull it enough so he could piece through the wreckage without completely falling apart.</p><p>
  <em>Is this what it’s like to lie to yourself?</em>
</p><p>Eliott’s gaze was so full. It always was. He knew Eliott could read everything Lucas wasn’t saying. He knew Eliott could hear Lucas’s own lies tying knots between the seams of his mind, attempting to sew them closed before they rip apart from the pressure. But the knots were unskilled against the gravity of his sorrow.</p><p>Slowly, the feeling of Eliott’s fingers rubbing the back of his knuckles breached the tumult of his thoughts. It was warm and soft and full. It made him feel like breaking even more.</p><p>“I feel like I’m fighting against something I can’t win.” And it’s making him sink even further. The uselessness of his desperation only feels like an extra weight. <em>Am I making it worse? </em></p><p>“Then stop fighting.”</p><p>Lucas let out a sob. <em>“I can’t.” </em></p><p>But Eliott wasn’t going to let him do that. “Yes, you can. I know it feels hopeless. I know it hurts. It’s supposed to.”</p><p>Lucas shook his head again, desperate now. <em>“I can’t.” </em>He repeated himself. Again and again. <em>I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t. </em>His head was down now, actually crying this time, unable to hold it back. It crashed over him with every <em>I can’t </em>he uttered. Their conjoined hands began to feel damp and Lucas realized the tears were dripping helplessly onto them both. He looked down at their interlaced fingers and clenched tighter.</p><p>As he continued to shake his head back and forth, he felt Eliott lean over and place his own head on his shoulder. It only made him sob louder. He wanted to be embarrassed. He felt like a child. But everything else he felt had flooded every thought, every nerve, and he had no more room to feel embarrassed. He was too full of feeling.</p><p>He let it overwhelm him, drowning out even the sound of the sea below. <em>Would it ever end?</em> But it did. Everything ended at some point. Every thought, every fear, every person. His favorite person.</p><p>As his breathing slowly began to return to normal, and the sobs turned to hiccups, Lucas realized Eliott was speaking next to him. <em>You can. You can. You can. I know you can. </em>It made his heart break even more. Lucas wasn’t even sure there was any of it left <em>to </em>break. He loved him so much. And maybe in this moment he didn’t fully understand the depth or the complexity of that feeling, he at least knew it was real and it was grounding for him. What he had with Eliott was one of the only things that he felt could keep him sane.</p><p>A small whine escaped him as he wrapped his arms around the other boy. He pulled Eliott in tightly, holding on as if he would disappear if given even an inch to move. Burying his face in his neck, Lucas focused on the pace of Eliott’s own breaths. The steady in and out calmed the riotous ache behind every hitch of his own breath. He felt their combined warmth beat back the chill of the night air, encompassing them like a blanket. It was soothing. Everything about Eliott was calming. But it wasn’t enough. It allowed him a moment of reprieve from the waves, but it didn’t erase any of it.</p><p>Lucas’s t-shirt rucked up a little in the back as Eliott’s hands made slow pathways across his shoulder blades and spine. The movements of his hands were soft but also firm, like a weighted blanket.</p><p>When he felt like he could finally speak without breaking apart, he murmured into Eliott’s neck, as if he was embarrassed that his words were a weakness he was unwilling to reveal. “Why did she leave me?” It was barely even a whisper, but he knew that Eliott would hear him.</p><p>“She didn’t.” Lucas began to shake his head, to deny the words, but Eliott continued. “She didn’t leave you. She left herself.” And then after a moment, allowing words time to land, he added—“She had to.”</p><p>And Lucas knew he was right. But it was hard to hear the words. It was so difficult to think that his mom was hurting so much without him. That she couldn’t cope. That she felt she had no other choice but to leave him behind. To leave everything behind.</p><p>“She had to.” Eliott repeated. Because that was the truth.</p><p>It scared him that Eliott not only understood Lucas so much, but that he also understood his mother so well, too. His mama, who was hurting for years. Who hid behind the joy she presented to Lucas at every visit. Who always made sure Lucas was doing okay, was getting along with his friends, was succeeding in school. She always had the time for what Lucas felt.</p><p>He clenched tighter around Eliott, and Eliott held him just as tightly. They breathed in time with each other, listening to the sea and the wind and the very distant sounds of the party slowing down behind them. Lucas didn’t want to feel alone anymore. He didn’t want to <em>be</em> alone anymore. He didn’t want to wake up each day mourning the loss of his mama anymore. The image of her smile as he went in for a hug. The look in her eyes when he would talk about Eliott. The calmness of her embrace. He didn’t want to lose those things. He could still feel them. But with each day, each memory felt more and more distant. It was agony.</p><p>“I love you so much, Eliott.” And he knew he wouldn’t have to explain it. That Eliott would know exactly what he meant, would know exactly how he felt. That Lucas wasn’t fixed. That he didn’t need Eliott to fix him. That he was lost without him.</p><p>“I know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welp. I hope I didn't upset anyone.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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